


Three is not a crowd

by Vault_Emblem



Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Argo is a bit of a slut, Double Penetration, Established Relationship, I'm Sorry, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22604203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vault_Emblem/pseuds/Vault_Emblem
Summary: It’s not the first time one of them comes to the dorm to find a rug over Gary and the other two busy with each other, and usually it doesn’t take long until everyone’s clothes are discarded on the ground and limbs intertwine and kisses are exchanged and moans begin to slip from their lips.There is something different in the way Fitzroy and Argo are going at it, however.
Relationships: Argo Keen / Master Firbolg, Argo Keene / Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt / Master Firbolg, Argo Keene/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt, Master Firbolg/Sir Fitzroy Maplecourt
Comments: 8
Kudos: 76





	Three is not a crowd

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to formally apologize to the entire Mcelroy family

Fitzroy is already buried deep inside Argo, who’s struggling to keep up with the other’s punishing rhythm, when Master Firbolg makes his entrance.

It’s not as awkward as it should be, and everyone acts like this is simple routine. It’s not the first time one of them comes to the dorm to find a rug over Gary and the other two busy with each other, and usually it doesn’t take long until everyone’s clothes are discarded on the ground and limbs intertwine and kisses are exchanged and moans begin to slip from their lips.

There is something different in the way Fitzroy and Argo are going at it, however: usually they’re all so careless in their needs that don’t really bother about how and where they’re getting off, but the way Fitzroy has Argo exposed on his side, sliding in and out from behind him as he holds him open with a hand on his thigh, feels more like he’s showing him off.

\- Hello Master Firbolg -.

\- Greetings -.

Only Argo doesn’t reply. He might’ve even not noticed the Firbolg’s entrance, with his eyes closes and voice ragged from the moans. Then Fitzroy must’ve hit a particular sensitive spot because Argo’s eyes are suddenly open wide as he bites his lips to hold a moan so loud that it could’ve been heard from outside their room.

It’s then that he notices Master Firbolg hovering over them, watching with an intense gaze, a gaze he’s witnessed only during these moments.

\- Oh… hey -.

He sounds fatigued, and the Firbolg would almost take pity on him if he didn’t know how much he enjoys this.

\- I should get to… homework -, the Firbolg says then, in his usual slur.

He will probably get his turn later with Argo, once Fitzroy finishes with him, so he can use the time he has to try and at least understand this accounting thing that he seems to not be able to get rid of no matter how many times he asks to change courses.

Apparently however this isn’t what Argo wants, because he gestures towards him. The Firbolg gets closer, with one knee propped on the mattress as he lowers himself to that he can see Argo better.

\- What is it? -.

Fitzroy must’ve done such a good job that only broken “I” and “I want” come out of Argo’s mouth, as he slurs the rest of the words as Fitzroy doesn’t give him not even a moment of pause to finish his sentence. Unfortunately it isn’t enough to make the Firbolg understand what he wants, and he just stays there, partly trying to put his intentions together and partly taken aback by how pretty Argo is like this – not that he didn’t know before, but it’s always a revelation when he sees him like this.

\- I believe he wants up both -, Fitzroy intercedes for him, a mischievous glint in his eyes similar to the one he has when he has to commit a “villainous” action of some sort.

The Firbolg stares at him at first, then his gaze turns to Argo.

\- Is this what you want? -, he asks to make sure. After all, he’s pretty big, they all know it; well, he didn’t know at first, but his two companions didn’t waste any time letting him know that, for average sized people like them, he’s very big, immensely so.

\- Yes… yes please -, Argo nods, and not that the thought of taking him together with Fitzroy doesn’t sound good to his ears, but Master Firbolg can’t help but to show some… concern.

\- Are you sure? Won’t it hurt? -.

\- I don’t think he cares at this point -, Fitzroy points out, and the Firbolg can’t help but to wonder how long has this been going on to reduce Argo to this.

As much as he wants to be the prudent one, he can feel himself harden slightly at the mere thought of sliding along Fitzroy inside Argo, make him scream for them, stretch him so much that he won’t be able to walk straight for a whole week.

\- It can be done -.

They settle with Fitzroy leaning against the wall with Argo on his lap, while Master Firbolg finds place between their legs.

He doesn’t get right to action however, as he’s always preferred to take things slow. He leans down over Argo, lapping and sucking at his skin. He can taste sweat but it doesn’t bother him.

Argo seems appreciative of the attentions, as he arches his body to give him better access to his neck, neck that Master Firbolg doesn’t waste any time in marking, along with the dark signs that Fitzroy has already left.

His hands take a hold of his waist at first, caressing his hips, then they travel up to Argo’s chest, fingers brushing against his nipples, making him shiver and clench in response, which in turn make Fitzroy jolt.

\- Not that I don’t appreciate what you’re doing -, he says then, tone definitely more laboured than before, - But I don’t know how much I, or he, will last. We might want to speed this up -.

The Firbolg nods, trailing his fingers down on Argo’s body. He’s such a trembling mess already, so after getting the oil, Master Firbolg is extremely careful as he prods his abused hole with one finger, pressing inside only so slightly.

\- Oh god! -, Argo exclaims, covering his mouth with one hand at the further intrusion. He feels so full already and they’ve only just begun. He’s almost regretting his previous bravado, but as Master Firbolg begins to wiggle his finger, making another moan escape his lips, he can’t say he minds.

Even if he breaks, it’ll be worth it, and if he survives, well, isn’t that something to brag about?

The Firbolg gets to three fingers before Argo _begs_ him to get on with it. Ok that he’s bigger and he needs more preparation, but his fingers must’ve done their job – they’re pretty big too after all.

Again, the Firbolg pours some oil on himself, and he finds stroking his cock wet a very pleasant endeavour, but he must not stir too far for the path that has been set for him.

\- Should I… just go in? -, he asks as he lines himself against Argo’s entrance.

He raises his gaze to meet the other’s, and while Argo seems more absent than awake, Fitzroy is looking down with clear interest in his eyes and some veiled worry, but mostly interest. He _really_ wants to see how this will go. He’s not going to lie, if something bad happens, having to explain this will be very bad, but if it works, _boy_. If it works it will be heaven, he’s sure of it.

He nods at the exact same time as Argo, who adds:

\- Yes! Just put it in! -.

There’s nothing left of the eloquent – or eloquent wannabe – smooth rogue that Argo likes to profess he is, but Fitzroy can’t lie: he may like this side of him more than the other. Not that he dislikes the other side, let’s be clear, or else he wouldn’t be in this situation.

\- Ok. I go in then -.

When he first pushes in, Fitzroy has to cover Argo’s mouth with his hand or else they’d definitely be heard from outside.

It takes a moment, but after applying a bit of force, the Firbolg’s tip manages to penetrate him. Argo’s shaking, from pain? From pleasure? It’s hard to understand, but at least Fitzroy has had the great idea to distract him by using his free hand on his poor neglected cock as Master Firbolg keeps pushing slowly, inch by inch, stopping when it seems like it’s too much, then getting back to it when Argo seems to relax.

He can feel Fitzroy’s cock already seated inside; it’s a weird sensation… but not necessarily bad. Besides, like this they’re all close to each other, without anyone feeling excluded, which is nice.

Once he bottoms out, he grits his teeth and waits, holding himself against Argo’s thighs, which he squeezes with his gigantic hands.

He _really_ wants to move, but he’ll wait until Argo says so. He can see a similar struggle in Fitzroy, and while he distracts himself by masturbating Argo, the Firbolg decides to get back to his neck, this time in a more aggressive way, making his way up and, after not so gently removing Fitzroy’s hand, he kisses Argo.

It’s gentler than one could imagine, almost a way of apologizing for causing him pain – even if, to be fair, Argo does like walking that fine, fine line between pleasure and pain.

It’s when they pull away that Argo finally manages to whisper, his voice low and hoarse:

\- _Please_ -.

That’s all they need.

It takes a few moments to find a rhythm – “You’re pushing against me!”, “I’m sorry”, “You’re doing it again!”, “I’m sorry” – but eventually they manage to get this whole thing going.

At this point, Argo’s as pliant and docile as he’ll ever be, and if his voice wasn’t so hoarse he’d be screaming like a madman. It’s both too much and not enough; not even he knows what he wants, so he just lets himself be maneuvred as the others please, which they do – a little bit of manhandling has never hurt anybody. He alternates between “I’m going to die” and “fuck go faster”, but soon he can’t find it in himself not even to talk, only moan weakly at some particularly strong push.

He doesn’t even realize he’s crying, but he feels the Firbolg’s lips as he kisses them dry, and he can hear Fitzroy’s voice telling him how good he’s being, which makes him shiver in pleasure.

After Argo begins to show signs of being really into this, they start to go even faster.

It's Fitzroy the one who begins to pick up the rhythm. He's so close and he wants to come so bad, running after his orgasm first and foremost.

\- You guys feel amazing -.

There is something even more exciting in the way they're all connected. He can sense Master Firbolg’s' enormous cock sliding against his, squeezing him against Argo's walls. It's almost painful from how tight it is, but for once Fitzroy can understand why Argo would be such a fan of hurting during these kind of sexual endeavours. Not that it has suddenly become a priority but… he can see the appeal in it.

Still, keeping up with the other is starting to become an arduous task, and Fitzroy is beginning to feel tired, but he refuses to be stopped by this; he grinds his teeth and he keeps going, no matter how much his legs and hips are screaming in pain.

Just a small effort, that’s all it will take.

He’s so close…

When he finally comes, Fitzroy sees white. He still pounds inside Argo for the entire duration of his orgasm, chasing down every last drop of pleasure.

He usually isn’t a fan of coming inside somebody else – or having someone come inside him – but this time there’s something pushing him to do so, a wild side that he’s only recently gotten the occasion to know. Besides, he can’t deny how satisfied he is at Argo’s howl at the feeling of being filled up.

He kisses his neck and shoulders, arms that are still holding firm, but he cannot let himself peacefully bask in the afterglow: the other’s haven’t come yet, after all.

He wants to pull out, get cleaned up and enjoy the rest of the show, but the Firbolg doesn’t let him do so with his merciless rhythm, pressing against Argo even harder now, and Fitzroy finds himself trapped on the other end. The worst part is that now his softening cock is being overstimulated in a way that he’d never think he’d be overstimulated, and it hurts, but not in a good way this time.

\- W-wait! -, he tries, but nobody’s listening to him.

All he can do is redouble his efforts on jacking Argo off, hoping that like this, he’ll come soon, and that Master Firbolg will follow suit. Anything to end this torture.

Luckily, he manages to accidentally slip out again, and he can finally sigh of relief. It was beginning to become _way too much_.

If with that he had managed to get a little more subdued, he comes back to his old self in a moment.

\- C’mon, Argo, do you want to let our Firbolg friend wait for his turn? -, he taunts, lips right on Argo’s ear, causing him to whine.

He begins to move him along Master Firbolg’s thrusts, making him sink even deeper, causing Argo to moan and whine at every thrust. He doesn’t sound like him at all anymore, which means that they’re doing a mighty fine job.

The Firbolg grunts and huffs, chasing his own orgasm, hands tight around Argo’s thighs, leaving marks that will last for at least a couple of days, but luckily nobody beside them will ever know of their existence.

He always gets like this when he’s close, focused and unrelenting, and this is exactly what it takes to tip Argo over the edge.

He might’ve resisted some more if only Fitzroy didn’t intervene: he grabs Argo by the hair, yanking it down – and everyone knows how much Argo loves it – in order to expose his neck to the Firbolg, who’s immediately over him. It’s after a particularly rough bite that Argo comes, his body shaken by spasms despite being held by the others.

He’s immediately overwhelmed by the way Master Firbolg keeps going, and Fitzroy has to cover his mouth again, shushing him quietly as, with a few more thrusts, the Firbolg comes as well with a satisfied grunt.

Nothing moves for a moment as they all catch their breaths.

Then Fitzroy finally removes his hand on Argo’s mouth, easing him down after Master Firbolg pulls out of him. Argo doesn’t even try to fight it, or say anything by the way – though he’s already gotten the sheets dirty with the cum leaking from his hole, but in the end it’s not his entire fault.

\- How is he? -, the Firbolg asks, and Argo tries to reply this time, but nor the Firbolg nor Fitzroy are able to understand him. Then he raises his thumb, signalling that he’s great, peachy even. He just needs a moment.

This may be the best part of all this, Argo would say if only he didn’t love every _single_ part of it. Still, there is something special in the way the other two cuddle together around him, soothing his aching body with kisses and caresses, muttering sweet words – or trying to in Master Firbolg’s case – until he’s good enough to move around again.

Oh, and they’re also kind enough to leave him out of cleaning duties when he’s reduced to this state, though that may be more an act of efficiency than an act of pure kindness: in his conditions, there’s very little he could do in terms of cleaning, so might as well leave him to rest while they take care of it. And besides, they do need him to rest; he can’t exactly go limping around at school or people will ask questions, and there’s only so much bullshit they can feed them before somebody finds out. Not that they’d be thrown out of the school – or so they hope – but it would still make everything way more awkward than it needs to be.

Argo always feels like he could ask them everything and they’ll do it, during these moments; he still has to try this – and take advantage of it because c’mon, who wouldn’t? – but he’s not cruel. Sure, he may sometimes wonder who it would feel to act more like Fitzroy when they have sex, but why should he change it up? He has more than enough fun like this: what better way to enjoy a nice rest than leaving others to take care of you? Besides, he thinks he puts enough intellectual work in their collective school life to deserve it.

… As nice as this is, he would also like to be able to breathe normally again, so he gently taps on Master Firbolg’s arm.

\- Not that I’m not loving this, but could you move just slightly, my firbolg friend? -.

The other grunts in response, but he does move away much to Argo’s relief. Ah, so nice to be able to take a nice, deep breath.

\- Mmh, I think it’s enough cuddles for now -, Fitzroy says. He’s always been the one most awkward of the three about cuddles, which says a lot given that Master Firbolg is also involved in all this; sex is fine and all, but with cuddles he becomes red in the face and he stutters. Maybe it’s because sex feels less personal to him? One day they should ask him.

\- We should clean up -.

And with that, the moment is over.

After taking care of Argo first – which is very kind of them – they move him to Fitzroy’s bed so that he can rest while the others finish cleaning. When this happened the first times, Fitzroy would usually complain about having to lend his _own_ bed for this, but after all it is only fair that he’d give it to Argo, since usually it’s his fault things get messier than they were supposed to in the first place.

It’s only after one last kiss on the cheek that the Firbolg joins his companion in the arduous task of cleaning up, and Argo just stays there, lying on his side, content with watching them with a satisfied smile on his face.

He wasn’t expecting things to go the way they went, but he can’t say he minds. He’s always been good at adapting, and he can only be happy with the results, even though he wouldn’t mind a healing spell on his ass: he won’t be able to walk for days!

He’s been utterly used and destroyed, and he cannot be happier about it.

He gets distracted for a moment when he hears Fitzroy curse, and he chuckles to himself. Without him, those two are as good as useless, but at least it’s entertaining to watch, at least until his eyelids become too heavy for Argo to keep his eyes open.

He recognizes this kind of numbness; in a matter of minutes, he’ll be fast asleep.

He doesn’t want to sleep, though. He wants to at least wait for the others to come back to him and enjoy their presence! Besides, wouldn’t it be rude to fall asleep immediately after the act?

His whole body is so tired though, as it’s his mind. He wouldn’t mind at least a small nap, enough to gather back enough energy to be his usual self.

This isn’t something unusual, and as of now neither of the other two has ever complained about it; under this front, even Fitzroy is pretty understanding.

Ah, fuck it.

He can’t fight sleep off for too long, but when he finally falls asleep, he doesn’t feel bad about it.

He knows that, when he’ll wake up, he’ll do so to warm embraces, soft snoring, and a kind of warmth that he’s starting to feel only since he joined this school.


End file.
